As every reader knows, the incident of Frodo hanging suspended from the side of the Sammath Naur never happened in Tolkien's book. But here it is, in four posts of screencaps. I know, it's hard to believe, considering how many of these caps look the same apart from variations in the lighting, but these represent less than half of the caps I actually made before forcing myself to throw the majority of them out.

When I first saw RotK, having decided I hated the film half an hour in, I hated this scene, too. In quite a huff, I thought it ridiculously over the top—shameless, in fact—frankly *begging* the audience to care. Which only made me more determined not to care, digging in my heels, refusing to respond to what I thought was blatant emotional manipulation. Peter Jackson planned the whole thing (I told myself), the plunge of both Gollum and Frodo off the cliff, just to make one of his signature "book-ends". I was thinking of the moment when the hand of Sam, who is drowning in the waters of Anduin, is clasped by Frodo, who pulls him up to life. I thought the moment in the Sammath Naur was surely meant to be the reversal of that scene, with Sam saving Frodo, instead, the close-ups focusing on the very same hand-to-wrist clasp. In my I-hate-the-film mode, I thought it far too obvious.

But, when I gave up protesting what I felt were the film-version's betrayals of the book, I came to love this scene for providing a wonderful window into Frodo's internal struggle: wanting to die, having "failed", but being urged to live by Sam's solid, saving presence as he pleads with Frodo to choose life. It's difficult now to remember that I once thought this scene pandering, but, ah, that's how things change when looked at through the eyes of love.

Re: your being taken by love, instead of logic: Love can, indeed, be blind. But it isn't stupid. Like the movies, the form is not always correct, but the substance, that which is at the core of the thing, the cornerstone of it all, the raw and wonderful and triumphant *spirit* of the thing, is all there.

Speaking of jan-u-wine, I want to draw the attention of readers to yet another of her stellar poems, The Claiming. As the title suggests, this is an interior look at the moment of Frodo as he claims—and is claimed by—Sauron's intrument, the Ring.

I have said so before, but, for me, reading Jan's poems is like reading great fanfiction, but in a highly concentrated form. I don't know how she does it. Another admirer of her work said, jan-u-wine's poems both enlarge and condense each moment she addresses. She can take discrete images—this leaf, that cracked yellow mug—and make them vivid, while also making them portals into multiple levels of meaning and experience. I can't do this sort of thing, but I appreciate it when done by others. It's as if she can put her ear right up to the hearts of her characters, then write beautifully about what she has heard.

~*~

Sam: Take my hand!

Sam: No!

~*~

Book scene:~*Mount Doom, cont'd.

‘Well, this is the end, Sam Gamgee,’ said a voice by his side. And there was Frodo, pale and worn, and yet himself again; and in his eyes there was peace now, neither strain of will, nor madness, nor any fear. His burden was taken away. There was the dear master of the sweet days in the Shire.

‘Master!’ cried Sam, and fell upon his knees. In all that ruin of the world for the moment he felt only joy, great joy. The burden was gone. His master had been saved; he was himself again, he was free. And then Sam caught sight of the maimed and bleeding hand.

‘Your poor hand!’ he said. ‘And I have nothing to bind it with, to comfort it. (...)

The Claiming

~ by jan-u-wine

It didn't hurt,you know.....

at least, not in any wayI can name with words.

Yet name it I must,and find words where there are none.

It was as if I were not there.

Even now,my mindwill not look behind the doorof the after-moment,and see what went before.

I suppose that means Iwas not there.

Sound,terrible soundand visions that fall from my mind aloneare the only memories that stir.

You see,It made my mouthsay those words.

I did not claim It.

At the last, as It had always wished,It claimed me.

Like a rope,drawn too tightly,too often upon sharp-cornered rock,the fibres of my being parted,fell away to nothing.

My own shadowsprang,black nightmareupon the wall,fedlike the will that heldmy body, by the furious intentof flame.

The small part of methat remainedtwisted and criedin a darkened cornerof my mind.

In a moment,even that,I knew,would be gone.

Blessedly, terribly, I would neverknow the fullnessof my failure.

How many days -

how manyways

I waited for death,

looked for it - wished for it.

I had not thoughtthat thismight be the mannerof it.

I wonder how longmy bodymight go onwhen the small voicewhich is mehas left.

Forever,if It wills,I suppose.

It grows even blackerwithin the confinesof my mind:

Even here, Its shadow hovers,grows large.

It knows.

It is coming for me.

It does not lie anymore,and whisper that I shallknow peace.

There will be no golden beautyto wrap my dremes about.

It is here.

As the man of Gondorforetold,I beg.

Oddly, my last thought is of him:

I wonder, in this terror,if I shall see him soon,or if even the promise of Light beyonddeath is devoured by evil.

I do not deserve the keeping of that Promisein any case.

I have delivered my world to consuming night.____________________________

I know....

I know who I am…..

what I am:

Frodo Baggins, simple Hobbit of the Shire.

Simple.

My knees bend upon heated,cutting rock,

my hand.....

There is blood upon my hand.

Blood and the stark whitenessof blunt-ragged bone.

Nothing else.

No dragging weight about the curveof my neck,

no voice caressing me,driving me,pushing me to madness.

Only the final echoof a screamwithin the close wallsof the chamber.

His…..

ormine?

I do not know.

Again,

I know that soon,I shall be no more…

know only darkness.

It is well.

This will be sweet darkness,fed by peace and unbornLight.

Sam.

He is here…

I remember…..

I know himand he,me.

It is all I would ask,(too much, I know),

all I would ask…

for us to end,as we began,side-by-side.

He takes my hand.

He is asking me if it hurts.

Not in any way I can namewith words,

my Sam.

~*~

Entries in this series:

~ Sammath Naur Intro: "Why I fell for Frodo” ~ Main essay for series (this essay is friends locked).

Comments:

Oh more tonight..and I just finally left my comments on part 7...which are soo long. I will comment to this moment:"But, when I gave up protesting what I felt were the film-version's betrayals of the book, I came to love this scene for providing a wonderful window into Frodo's internal struggle: wanting to die, having "failed", but being urged to live by Sam's solid, saving presence as he pleads with Frodo to choose life. It's difficult now to remember that I once thought this scene pandering"...I think there was an issue with most hard core Tolkien lovers of this kind of thing. But...sometimes what is in a book isn't enough to relay on screen. Words are so different than a visual. I think this moment was so powerful after Frodo's struggle and failure and his feelings of insignificance. I truly felt he wanted to let go, he wasn't worthy of the fight any more. He wasn't worthy, period. But Sam, in his love and desperation screams to tell Frodo Not to let go..You (Frodo) are more than that...you always were..more than that. This moment is done, they did do it...Frodo...really did do it. His motives were always pure and he sacrificed himself. He never let anyone else carry this burden..he felt the evil, but...even in his weakness...he remained Frodo, and such a loving good heart. Beginning to end..an amazing and achingly painful journey.hugs...xoxoxo v

I think there was an issue with most hard core Tolkien lovers of this kind of thing. But...sometimes what is in a book isn't enough to relay on screen. Words are so different than a visual. I think this moment was so powerful after Frodo's struggle and failure and his feelings of insignificance.

I think you are right, Verangel. Sometimes what works on the page doesn't work transferred directly onto the screen. PJ and the writers were often *brilliant* at making the book into film. I think, too--in their version of the Sammath Naur, in which Frodo does actually get up and fight furiously with Gollum to get back the Ring, after he'd had the Ring taken from him, so violently that they both went tumbling over the side--that more was required, dramatically, to resolve the scene emotionally than what was described in the book. When Frodo finally speaks in the book, answering Sam, who is rejoiced to see his master "himself again", with peace in his face, it is appropriate, their tender, low-key exchange. But in the film what has just gone before has been very intense and violent for Frodo (the fight over the Ring). It makes sense that he'd be radically affected by what he'd just done and been through. That he'd be devastated by what happened, and have to be coaxed back into life, follows perfectly out of what just took place. (Maybe I'll talk about this in the next installment....)

He never let anyone else carry this burden..he felt the evil, but...even in his weakness...he remained Frodo, and such a loving good heart.

Things that work in a book, where the author is whispering to us, wouldn't work in a movie, where we're taking everything in through our senses of sight and hearing. I absolutely love that experience, and ROTK gave it to me so powerfully I left the theater feeling like I'd been poleaxed. I hardly knew how to feel for a while, but I knew I wanted to go back and experience it again.

Me, too. I couldn't stay out of the theatre once I fell for the film. I went back the second time only because I had promised to take our daughter. Mind you, I had driven three hours to the Cities to see the opening show at their best theatre, at midnight. I couldn't have been more excited. And I'd read a lot of spoilers, so the changes weren't all surprises. But it was so *not* what I was expecting and hoping for, I was in a state of grief, although it was expressed as anger and fault-finding (not that I discussed it with anyone much, but inwardly). It was a week before I saw it again, and I kind of liked it. My daughter loved it and asked to see it again after we'd had some lunch. We did, and I was hooked. I fell for the film *big time*. I suppose the more opposed one is the harder one falls, when and if one falls, experiencing a change of heart.

But like you say, it was an experience that I couldn't repeat enough, not that any two viewings were the same. When I finally got my sister to see it with me, afterwards she was devastated. "How can you stand watching this film over and over?" She asked. She found it too painful to even think of watching it twice. That showed how differently I experienced being "poleaxed", I guess. I just wanted to be whacked again! For me, it was almost like therapy.

Jan's poem really is outstanding, and does best what poetic narrative can do. You're right, film and written forms are very, very different, each with their own gifts. Lucky us to receive so much beauty, and in every sort of form.

From the first time I saw ROTK, the whole part at Mt. Doom from when Frodo says "The Ring is Mine" through to where Frodo hangs from the cliff and looks up at Sam, pleading, questioning "can I just let go" without one word, was my absolute favorite part of all the movies. I was completely blown away by it, and by Elijah's acting, and Sean's, in these scenes. Every time I watch these scenes, I am transfixed.

This post, your word, those gorgeous caps, jan's poem, the lovingly comments - it's more than I could ever express. I read it, looked at the images, read jan's incredible poem ... - I started anew and couldn't stop. I can't tell you how I feel right now, emotional, touched, at a loss for words ...

"As the man of Gondorforetold,I beg.

Oddly, my last thought is of him:

I wonder, in this terror,if I shall see him soon,or if even the promise of Light beyonddeath is devoured by evil."

Somehow, these comments beg for an apology (from me), and yet they do not, truly, do they? It's another beautiful sadness. I think that all that I might offer, by way of comfort, is to say that he is at peace now.